Autumn Landscape, October 27, 2015 (Photo: Geo Davis)
TGIF… time to put another log on the fire, pour yourself something refreshing, and unwind for a moment together. Busy-ness and a continuous cascade of commitments can gradually hypnotize us during the weekly hurly-burly, so let’s take a few minutes to exhale and redirect our attention at this dramatic time of year. Transformation all around us. Breathtaking beauty all around us. I invite you to round out your week by contemplating the autumn landscape.
As another week of icehouse rehab draws to a close, I’m shifted gears a little. I’ll post an update soon, however there’ve been several compelling-but-competing intrigues to pursue. Yesterday’s post about rehoming the “truckling” in exchange for an inspiring reuse/recycling story has elicited several compelling possibilities. (Hoping to make a decision soon, and I’ll share the winning story!) I’ve also been crowdsourcing (albeit quite limitedly among friends and family) perspectives on what makes a house a home. Can’t wait to share the riches tomorrow! For now, with this pair of jolly Jack-in-the-box updates about to spring out into the open, I’m recalibrating and refocusing on autumn landscape.
Autumn Streamscape
As wildlife crisscross
these riparian byways
scents, tracks, graffiti.
— Geo Davis
This haiku takes as its seed the layered narrative along Library Brook which meanders the western margin of Rosslyn’s back forests and fields. So much wildlife trafficking this vital corridor, and all of them communicating, carrying on a distributed dialogue, and creating artistic artifacts.
I spent some time flail mowing near a small portion of this riparian region last summer, eliminating some invasive that have clogged the stream, and encouraging native flora to thrive, ensuring a healthy habitat for our wild neighbors. I thought that I had taken photographs of a mesmerizingly beautiful glade thick with stream-side wildflowers, but I’m unable to find them. Perhaps these images were meant to remain wild, earned quietly on foot, cross country skies, snowshoes.
These contemplative places abound at Rosslyn. And my haiku doesn’t offer a sufficient snapshot. Perhaps I’ll be able to update this page with another poem that offers the scents and sounds of this this wild autumn landscape. For now I’d like to offer you a potent portrait by a Vietnamese poet, Hồ Xuân Hương (1772–1822), that hints at the intoxication I’m alluding to. If “the banana leaves” are overlooked, her poem feels as if it might be leaning against a stump beside burbling Library Brook.
Autumn Landscape
Drop by drop rain slaps the banana leaves.
Praise whoever sketched this desolate scene:
the lush, dark canopies of the gnarled trees,
the long river, sliding smooth and white.
I lift my wine flask, drunk with rivers and hills.
My backpack, breathing moonlight, sags with poems.
Look, and love everyone.
Whoever sees this landscape is stunned.
— Hồ Xuân Hương (Source: Narrative Magazine)
Let us all breathe some moonlight tonight, and let us all let go the of the week just lived and look at the autumn landscape, allow it to stun us, to remind us how to love. Everyone.
Is Home a Place, a Feeling, or a Relationship? (Source: Geo Davis)
In the days since publishing “What Makes a House a Home?” I’ve been fortunate to enjoy follow up exchanges with many of you. It seems that we all have some compelling notions of homeness! Thank you for reaching out and sharing your often personal stories. I’ve mentioned to several of you that I’d like to dive in a little deeper if/when you’re inclined. This inquiry is foundational to Rosslyn Redux, and I believe that the objective is less to answer the question and more to propagate more questions, to seed wonder and reflection.
There are so many little forays into this residential quest, that I’ve decided to follow up with three follow-ups posts that intrigue me and that have been percolating with renewed vigor since sharing the previous post. I’ll jumpstart the three with a preliminary introduction of sorts, maybe more of a welcome, today in seeding the three questions as one. Is home a place, a feeling, or a relationship? I’m hoping to intersperse more narrowly focused posts on each of the three questions with progress reports on the icehouse rehab (It was a big day today!) and the boathouse gangway. And I’m hoping to hear from you if you feel moved to share your thoughts on any of the three. I suspect that many of us consider all three to be connected in some way to our ideas of home. More one than another?
Two weeks ago I shared a tickler for this post on Instagram, a short reel offering an aerial view of Rosslyn that I filmed with my drone last summer. It feels meditative to me. Like a soaring seagull wondering, wandering…
https://www.instagram.com/reel/ClB-1F8AFiK/
I think for now, I’ll leave the question of home as place gently gyring in the updraft to be picked up again soon in another post.
Is Home a Relationship?
In the digital sketch / watercolor at the top of this post, the almost abstract blue green wash hopefully feels a little bit like a dream. Maybe a memory. Something fuzzy and abstract in my memory. It’s a barn, actually a barn quite near Rosslyn in the hamlet of Boquet. But it’s not necessarily that barn I’m depicting. It’s many barns including the barns at Rosslyn (carriage barn and icehouse) the barns at The Farm where I spent a few formative early years, and the barn(s) that I hope to one day, same day build or rebuild. In short, for reasons I’m still unraveling, homeness for me includes a feeling of an old, perhaps even an abandoned farm, with barns. More at that anon.
Is Home a Place, a Feeling, or a Relationship? (Source: Geo Davis)
Is Home a Feeling?
Sticking with digital sketches / watercolors for a moment, that black and white image above was actually made a few years ago to represent Griffin, our Labrador Retriever before Carley. But like the barn, my rudimentary skills at representation allow it to merge into all of our dogs including Tasha, who we had before Griffin, and even Griffin-the-1st, a long ago predecessor and the namesake for our more recent Griffin. That’s a bit jumbled, but it’ll do for now.
Why dogness as a way to explore homeness? Well, frankly, for me, part of the feeling of home is that it’s where my dog is. And when we’re migratory between the Adirondacks and the Southwest seasonally, our dog is with us, maintaining a sense of home even though we’re temporarily nomadic. More on that now soon.
Is Home a Point of Overlap Place, Relationship, and Feeling?
I’ll leave you with this follow-on because I find that it’s surprisingly challenging to tease apart the elements of homeness. Intrinsic to all three, is my beautiful bride, Susan. She is my home in a way that embodies place, relationship, and feeling. What about you?
Stone Splash Blocks: one fully visible, one scarcely discernible at right (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
As always besotted by artifacts (especially those directly related to Rosslyn) and irresistibly drawn to crowdsourcing as a way to answer questions that my own research leaves wanting, today’s post represents an exciting moment celebrating the convergence of the two. On June 28, 2013 I published “Stone Gutters?” showcasing a pair of mysterious artifacts unearthed while rehabilitating Rosslyn’s carriage barn. From what we could tell they had been repurposed from their original function into stone footings supporting the substructure of the north-side horse stalls. Almost ten and a half years later I can confirm that those singularly handsome artifacts are in fact stone splash blocks.
Stone Gutters
Let’s start with a slightly tightened up recap of the 2013 episode:
A pair of exciting — and slightly mysterious — artifacts have been disinterred from Rosslyn’s carriage barn today…
These beautiful, hand carved stones had been buried 2 feet underground and were serving as ad hoc footers for upright supports in the carriage barn stalls.
What are they? Gutter downspout troughs, perhaps?
What’s clear is that they are works of art. And heavy as lead. Massive hunks of local limestone with almost perfectly round “bowls” leading into rounded run-out troughs. I imagine rain gutters dumping water into these, directing the flow away from the foundation. Perhaps it’s just my wishful thinking?
[…]
My gut tells me that these hefty artifacts were originally part of a stone gutter system. (Source: Stone Gutters?)
I wrapped up that long-ago post with a last minute discovery of a photo and description from Parlington Hall (located in Yorkshire, England) that added a twinge of confidence to my speculation.
Stone Gutters: Scattered about in no particular location that could pinpoint where these sections of masonry were originally installed, are pieces of sandstone with a hollowed out semi-circular trough running the length of the piece, roughly three feet long each. Five have been unearthed todate. These heavy pieces of masonry are very old and as far I can tell are stone gutters which would have sat at the head of the external walls to carry rainwater from the sloping slate roofs. I have produced a series of sketches which illustrtate how the stone was sited in the wall. (Source: Parlington Hall)
Although I was comfortable speculating that what Doug and Jacob discovered while demo’ing the carriage barn stables were in fact part of a stone gutter system, the circular bowls leading into the troughs differed from the Parlington Hall example. And the likelihood that a stone gutter system had been integrated into the construction of Rosslyn (akin to diagrammed examples from Parlington Hall) struck me as extremely unlikely given the size and weight of each individual block.
Stone Splash Blocks
A week ago Pam came across the hand carved stone in the photo above while managing the icehouse dirt work. Actually, she came across both of them. You can just spy the edge of the second one at the right of photo.
I had been storing these *treasures* outside (think lichen-friendly patina-ing) in an area where we stage building and landscaping materials, but she’d never seen them before and was pleased with the discovery. I decided to push the photo back out into the sometimes prodigiously savant interwebs to see if any new ideas might come to the fore.
Eureka! In short order Leslie Jewel Hight (@lesliejewellhight) and Al Tirella (@al.tirella) demystified this decade old enigma. What we had discovered in the spidery underbelly of the carriage barn 10+ years ago was a pair of stone splash blocks. Moreover, they confirmed not just my original hypothesis, but they did so with visual evidence. Here’s the discussion that germinated on Facebook:
Leslie Jewell Hight: It’s a splash block to channel water coming out of the roof gutter away from the building.
Al Tirella: That’s what I thought right off as well.
Leslie Jewell Hight: I’ve encountered a few old buildings that still have functional stone splash blocks. Most have modern aluminum downspouts leading to them, but I saw one that used rain chains and it appeared to me that the rain chains did a better job.
Al Tirella: Frank Lloyd Wright was a huge proponent of the chain downspout. Ingenious whoever was its inventor.
Rosslyn Redux: I believe you two are correct. Thank you. I’d love to find a photo of one of those homes using similar “splash blocks” (great name! New to me…) to serve as a model. Any pointers?
Rosslyn Redux: Hurrah! That is perfect. A Jeroboam of gratitude to you, Leslie. Thank you.
Al Tirella: Ha! As vast as the internet is, I came across the exact image and emailed it to GD a couple of days ago.
Leslie Jewell Hight: It sticks out in the sea of cheap plastic reproductions, doesn’t it? I noticed the photographer said it was at a Shaker site, so I wonder if Rosslyn Redux’s example has the same provenance?
Al Tirella: The modern pre-cast cement ones are not that bad. I have 3 of them.
Rosslyn Redux: Leslie Jewell Hight I wondered the same thing. Sooo similar!
Ah-ha! You ask, and the internet shall provide. Sometimes. Not always, of course, but what a thrilling gift when it does. I offer my most sincere thanks to Leslie and Al. And also to Andrew Raimist (@Remiss63) whose photograph of a remarkably similar stone splash block was included in his Shaker photographs taken at the Shaker Village at Pleasant Hill, Kentucky. It’s worth mentioning that all of his architecture and design photographs command attention, but it is the carved stone splash block that so perfectly confirmed Leslie’s conviction. Indeed it is a twin of our stone splash blocks.
Not Cannonball Molds?
Back in 2013 the men who unearthed the artifacts suspected that they might be a form used for casting metal objects. I asked them to hypothesize what might have been cast with the hand carved blocks.
“A canon ball,” one suggested hopefully. (Source: Stone Gutters?)
I could see where the idea came from, but the size of the potential “fill tube” seemed excessive, and the unwieldy blocks would be tremendously onerous to use. But, what do I know about casting cannonballs?
When I posted the image last week, a similar guess suggests to me that maybe these are pretty similar to what was used for manufacturing cannonballs once upon a time.
